Rendezvous
by CrypticCalico
Summary: Rachel is waiting for someone. Jokachel. Oneshot.


**A/N - I really hope I did okay on this one. I'm still relatively new to the Batman fandom, and it takes everything I've got to keep our lovely characters the way they are. I hope the Joker isn't too OOC O.o His dialogue is very difficult to write. And I very much hope that this is a believable enough scenario for the Joker/Rachel pairing. Anyways, hope you like it! **

Seventeen stories above the streets she stands on the edge of the rooftop, looking down. And she wonders just how a place such as Gotham, so full of darkness and misery, can be so frighteningly beautiful.

The new moon is invisible, black upon the black expanse of the sky. The stars are tiny, white, snowflake pinpricks blinking in the far distance. Cars race down the highway below, the roar of their engines drowned out by the heavy silence that envelops Gotham at this height. Neon signs are aglow with bursts of soft colour on the buildings along the streets. Shimmering, sparkling lights blanket the city like a million flickering candles, silhouetting the skyscrapers and high-rise apartments in a glittering yellow glow against the darkness.

_Magical, _she thinks.

A cool breeze caresses her face as she gazes upon this breathtaking view. She sighs.

"Shall I use the _normal_ cliché and just compare it to fireflies?"

She jumps at the sound of his voice, caught off guard. She whirls around as he cackles at his own joke; a sinister noise in the heavy silence.

His figure is only an obscure shadow amongst those of the rooftop. But she knows who he is.

"Thinking of jumping, Miss Dawes? Why don't you, uh, just let _me_ take care of it? I don't mind. I promise, it won't hurt – for _long_!" He cackles again.

Rachel can feel his laughter reverberating in her chest. It is a haunting sound and far, far from the happy sound that laughter is supposed to be. It scares her out of her wits. And yet… it intrigues her.

He steps forward and she can see his face now, vaguely. The bright city lights don't quite reach this altitude, and in the gloom his features look strange and distorted. At least, more so than they already are.

"Meeting with you doesn't make me feel bad enough to commit suicide," Rachel replies, though in truth the guilt is nearly tearing her apart.

"Poor, poor Harvey," the Joker says without a hint of pity. "What would he say if he knew his _dearest Rachel _was secretly slipping off to rendezvous with someone like _me_?"

He takes another step towards her and stops, tilting his head to one side, grinning devilishly all the while.

Rachel takes a deep breath in an attempt to abate the loud pounding of her heart. The next second, he's grabbed her roughly and is kissing her vigorously, almost brutally. She tries to imagine him kissing her passionately.

But he doesn't. And she's used to it. And in some deep, isolated corner of her mind, she has to admit – she likes it.

He sucks on her mouth and bites down on her lips aggressively until they are battered, swollen and red. She feels the short, sharp sting of his teeth digging into her flesh before he pulls away.

Rachel draws back, panting, her heart ready to beat its way out of her chest. She turns around and stands at the edge of the ledge, staring out over the city. The shame is already eating her up inside. _I am not this type of person. Why do I keep doing this to myself? Oh Harvey… Oh Bruce… I'm so sorry._

"What's eatin' ya, good-lookin'?" the Joker asks. "Something gone awry in paradise?"

"Do you really want to know?" Rachel wonders aloud. She knows that there is no such thing as a normal conversation with this man, and that it is very doubtful he can give helpful, sensible, or even comprehensible counsel. The peculiar thing, though, is that there is always a ring of truth to his words.

The Joker is silent, and she takes that as a cue to continue.

"It's… Harvey," she admits finally. "And you. And _us._"

"Wait, wait, I can guess – you're feeling _guilty_ for cheating on a man who has morals with a man who has none," he interrupts, raising his eyebrows in inquiry.

Rachel is slightly taken aback. "Am I that easy to read?"

"Like a _book_, darlin'," he says. "Now let me tell you _my _opinion."

He steps closer to her, and she stares at his unreadable expression in confusion. He grabs her right arm and squeezes it tightly, placing his other hand against her left shoulder. That mischievous smile flashes across his face, and he pushes on her shoulder, hard. The next second, Rachel is dangling over the side of the rooftop.

Her feet are pushing against the very edge, her right arm thrashing wildly in the air. His grip is the only thing keeping her from plummeting backwards into the alley hundreds of feet below.

"Do you trust me, Rachel?" he asks, his eyes shining.

She answers him, adrenaline rushing through her body, without skipping a beat. "No."

"Of course you don't. See, trust doesn't exist anymore. Conspiracy, deceit and fabrication are all too prominent in this world nowadays. People lie about _everything._ Even the most scrupulous, law-abiding citizens are _liars_. And that's the kicker: You will find not one honest person in this _entire _city. Not a _one._ And these people are just like _wild_ animals: they're fine if they're left alone to walk about and do as they please, but when they're cornered, they go _crazy_! Spinning lies about things left and right, they can't remember where one lie begins and the other ends – so they make up more lies to cover up those, and more to cover _those, _and pretty soon they can't tell truth from fiction, much less reality from fantasy.

"So look at it this way. Harvey may appear an honest man, but there's always going to be _something _he's keeping from you. Always."

Rachel feels the muscles in her shoulder rending as he pulls her back onto the rooftop beside him. She stands there shakily, staring at him, her eyes wide with shock as she tries to absorb this information. The adrenaline rush subsides and she feels limp with relief. But there's still one thing that refuses to stop nagging at her mind.

"But what if he finds out?"

The Joker laughs in amusement. "How's he gonna find out? No one knows about us but you and me. _Sure_, I could use you to get to him. It wouldn't be hard, obviously. But I like to see how things play out. In the meantime, what he doesn't know can't hurt him."

"It still hurts _me_, though," Rachel whispers sadly.

"Well, _that_ I can't help you with, sugar plum," he answers. "Just think about it."

She sighs and turns away from him again, staring out over the dazzling lights of Gotham from seventeen stories above. He steals quietly away into the darkness, leaving her only with a head full of riddles and the sound of an echoing laugh.


End file.
